Shattered Glass
by Tibbins
Summary: Carries on from the end of season 7, SPOILERS! Just how I think that Deb might react to what she did and the possible reasons for it. Hints of Debster. It's just a short, one-shot. Rated T for Deb's potty mouth, YOU ARE WARNED.


**Hello Dexter fandom, it's very nice to meet you *offers hand***

**I just finished watching season 7 and am EXTREMELY excited with what will come next**

**I find myself intrigued by Deb as a character so this story focusses mainly on her, especially because of the trailers that show her kind of going 'off the rails' a bit. I kind of imagine this a few days after the end of season 7 so SPOILERS!**

**I dedicate this chapter to my first reviewer, whomever you may be, congratulations and thank you ^.^**

**I definitely don't own Dexter ... or anything but my laptop and my brain**

**Enjoy ^.^**

Debra took a sip of her beer and found the bottle empty

'Fuck' she stood and walked shakily over to her fridge to grab another, she opened it and took a deep draught. Better. Slightly. As she collapsed back on the sofa she glanced at her phone. It had done nothing but ring all evening. What time was it again? Oh yeah, nearly five in the morning. It was beginning to get light outside, the clouds tinged with the orange of what promised to be a beautiful sunrise. But Deb was facing the other way, too lost in her alcohol-induced buzz to care about the wonders of nature.

She'd been like this for the past five days now. She'd barely slept and had been drinking from the moment she awoke. She was aware that she smelled, she hadn't showered or cleaned or been shopping except to buy more beer. She didn't care. She ignored the phone and shakily lit a cigarette, taking a drag, aiming for the calm that usually came easily. Not today. Not for a while. She stubbed it out. Officially, she was taking a holiday, it was the new year after all, resolutions and all that. Dexter had left her alone. She was glad about that, it saved her feeling even worse. She knew that to see him, she would see that damn container and LaGuerta pleading with her to kill her brother. She would smell the blood and the sweat and fear, she would taste her own tears and she would hear the gunshot that brought her to now. A mess.

She had been in shock for the remainder of Angel's party, she had managed to fake smile her way through it, and Dexter had been beside her, to cover over her stutters and guide her to various chairs. Not missing a beat of his own act, his smile as believable as it had ever been, his confusion as to LaGuerta's whereabouts sounded as real as Angel's.

How could he just carry on? After everything. He had given up, he hadn't told her to kill anyone he had just wanted her to _leave_. To get the fuck out and let him finish, and when LaGuerta woke up he hadn't fought with her, hadn't tried to defend himself, he had thrown down his knife and been ready to die at his sister's hand. And he didn't blame her, for anything. She could see it in his eyes, those deep, guarded eyes that Deb had always thought she could read. She had seen only pity.

She let out a strangled cry and threw the almost-empty bottle across the room where it smashed into pieces against the wall. She drew her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth, breaking into sobs that racked her whole body even though her eyes had run out of tears. Her chest clenched painfully as she cried. She didn't _want _his fucking pity! She wanted everything back to the way it was, before she had killed anyone, before she knew _he _had killed anyone, back when it didn't hurt so damn much to care about him.

Once she had stopped shaking she stood again, and using the back of the sofa and various other surfaces she made it to the fridge to grab several more bottles. Then she stumbled on into the the beer she took a swig and set it down beside the bathtub, she fiddled with the taps for a while and perched unsteadily on the edge, watching the tub fill with water. She opened the cabinet and took out her meds. She took two before she noticed a smear of red in the corner of her eye. Blood, on the floor, a small trail in her footsteps. She must have cut herself on the broken glass. Whatever, she'd deal with it later. She took another pill, just to take the edge off.

Once Dexter had cleaned up and arranged the bodies to his satisfaction, he had taken her by the arm and led her to her car, unthinkingly, she had driven back to the party, Dexter had gone in his own car but they had joined again outside the sound of light and laughter. After the party, Dexter had driven Harrison and Jamie back at his, laughing that Deb was drunk and needed some help getting back, he then drove her to her own house and let her in, led her to the sofa and sat her down and sat next to her.

He had tried to start a conversation, get her to talk, but at first she had been stoic, and then became angry, she had yelled at him, screamed at him, hit him, pushed him out the door with obscenities and insults in her voice. He hadn't said a word, hadn't blocked her blows, he knew he deserved them. He had broken her. Completely. She almost laughed at the irony. Dexter had always been the one to fix her, put her back together again like humpty-fucking-dumpty, he had saved her whenever she needed him. She had always thought of herself as broken, especially since the Ice Truck Killer turned out to be her motherfucking fiancée. But Dex was there for her. He had saved her then too; helped her feel whole again.

Especially since her therapist had made her realise her more than sisterly feelings for him. Her fist clenched on the neck of her beer and she lifted it to her lips again. She then stripped off her clothes and left them crumpled on the floor, she turned off the water flow, added some bubbles and slid with a sigh into the almost scalding water. She welcomed the heat, it made her feel clean, as if it were scouring all the bad inside her away.

She could dress it up as much as she wanted with her being under extreme stress, not seeing straight, LaGuerta yelling at her, Dexter surrendering, she could justify that LaGuerta had seemed like the threat to her then, Dexter had been still, quietly accepting, Maria had been on the ground, inching towards her, yelling things, horrible things, telling her to put her brother down, like he was the dog, Banjo that she had only had for a day, that she had never really liked LaGuerta all that much anyway. But when it boiled down to it, it had been a choice. And she'd chosen Dexter. Always _would_ choose Dexter, because he was her brother and she loved him. He was her safe place even though being around him wasn't safe anymore. He'd done wrong. A shit load of wrong, but as much as she hated knowing it, she knew that she would protect him with everything she was. And she had.

She felt lost. She had killed LaGuerta, her boss, the woman who had once been her friend to protect her brother, a serial killer who had made it look like she had never been there. She sank down lower into the water, tipping her head back to soak her hair, even going further and submerging herself completely. She stayed underwater for maybe a minute before the temporary peace was ended by the fierce burning in her lungs and she rose. As she lay there, drinking beer in the water she thought over her choice.

Had it been the right one? The other option was unthinkable, but LaGuerta hadn't deserved it. She had just been doing her job. Trying to clear her lovers name. She would have done the same thing. But her instinct to protect Dexter was too deeply ingrained in her, to pay him back for all the times he had protected her, he had always been there when she really needed him, never let her down. He comforted her, or tried to, but always said the wrong thing. His presence usually being enough to calm her down, a balm to her raw nerves. Before she had known that her beloved brother liked to kill people. She let out a humourless laugh an cracked open another beer.

After a while of staring into space and swallowing beer, her head began to feel familiarly fuzzy, the beer was actually taking effect. She was surprised, she'd been drinking for days and nothing had changed. As she gazed absent-mindedly, she saw a line of red in the water, a trickle of blood from her foot just trailing a crimson stain across the surface, she watched it spread as she took another draught of beer, it became a thin film, covering the surface, then it began to sink, there was a lot more blood now, and the water was getting thicker, it was hard to move and Deb briefly sank beneath, choking on the blood that had entered her mouth, she spat it out, but couldn't rid herself of the taste, she lifted her hands to pull herself out of the blood but they were covered in red and she gasped, swallowing more blood. Her elbow knocked against the beer bottle on the side which fell, she gripped the edge of the tub and hauled herself up, swinging one leg over the side, as she did, her other foot slipped and she fell. The last thing she saw was blood.

_XXX_

Dexter rapped on Deb's door. He had wanted to come over in person. He had tried calling but she hadn't picked up. He had called a lot. He had done nothing but call, so here he was, bright and early, at 7 o'clock, to try and talk to his sister. He had left her alone for almost a week, mostly. Giving her time to adjust, space to think. But he was worried about her, or more like she was in the back of his mind and he knew she wouldn't leave until he talked to her, made sure she was okay. Deb was strong. Stronger than anyone he knew. But he had been about to cross his own line that night, and Deb had done it for him, without any gradual easing. It was like Hannah's father throwing her into the pond to try to teach her how to swim. That's what he had done to Deb. He looked in through the glass

door and knocked again

'Deb!' he called. As he did so his eyes landed on the discarded beer bottles, and the broken glass, and the blood 'Deb!' he knocked once more, and called louder, maybe she was in the shower or something and couldn't hear him.

'Fuck this', made his way round to the glass doors at the back, the ones Deb hardly ever locked. He slid them open and made his way inside. He followed the trail of blood to the bathroom; he wasn't too concerned, from the look of it, it was only from a shallow cut, probably caused by the broken glass, maybe Deb had gone to the bathroom to clean it. The bathroom door was closed so he knocked,

'Deb, if you don't answer me in three seconds I'm coming in. I don't care if you don't wanna talk to me' he counted slowly, giving his sister time to reply or swear at him. Nothing. He forced the door open.

Deb was lying half in the bath, naked, blood dripping from her head, mingling with the water from the bath. There was blood on the sink too, where she must have hit her head. Dexter immediately flash-backed to Rita, except Harrison wasn't crying and the bath wasn't full of blood. He shook himself and scooped Deb up in his arms, she was so light. He could easily count her ribs without having to feel them. She had lost weight in the past week. Had she eaten at all?

Breathing heavily he checked her pulse. Strong. Dexter sighed in relief and lifted his sister and carried her to her bedroom where he lay her down gently. He checked her head before calling 911. While waiting for them to arrive he dressed Deb in a robe. He was uncomfortable with the sight of her naked; as he did so, he noticed the house. Dirty, not been cleaned, beer bottles and cigarette butts everywhere, he opened the bathroom cabinet and saw the open bottle of meds. He held it for a moment, trying to put the pieces together, put himself back together before the ambulance arrived. He sat next to Deb on the bed and waited for the ambulance, gripping her hand tight. He smoothed her hair back from her face. She looked so peaceful, still, so unlike Deb. Almost dead.

He made a strangled sound at the back of his throat at that thought and traced his thumb along her cheek and down her neck to rest on her chest where he could feel her heartbeat.

'What did you do Deb?' he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips 'Screw that, I don't care. Just … Please be okay'

_XXX_

Deb awoke to the sound of a heart monitor and the feeling of pressure on her hand. She blinked; her vision was fuzzy for a few seconds before Dexter swam into focus. His brown eyes trained on her, sunken, outlined by dark rings to show he hadn't slept.

'Deb' his voice was hoarse, cracked. But Deb didn't reply. She was obviously at a hospital, she must have passed out in the bath. She had a killer headache so she had either hit her head or was just sober again. Maybe both. She had an IV in one arm, she clenched her fist and pressed her lips together at the unfamiliar feeling. She carefully inspected every inch of the stark, white room before bringing her attention back to Dexter, who was waiting patiently for her to gather her bearings. She just stared at him. She couldn't think of what to say.

'Deb?' Dexter said again. Deb didn't react, she just stared. Dexter swallowed, a silent Deb was a bad thing, they had had to pump her stomach, the contents had been pure liquid, alcohol to be precise, that plus the three pills she had taken made for a dangerous cocktail. Maybe she had his her head harder than he thought 'can you hear me?' that got a reaction, a flash of anger in her eyes

'Of course I can fucking hear you' she spat, she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the pain in her stomach and head, holding her hand up furiously when he tried to help, she then met her brother's eyes again 'All I can ever fucking do is hear you' she continued, pressing her forefinger to the side of her head like a gun 'In that trailer. 'Do what you gotta do' so I did' Deb took in a deep breath, fighting against the images flashing in her mind 'I did what I had to do and now my boss is dead! And I killed her! And you were stood there, telling me that I'm a good person and that I should just 'do what I gotta do' and you meant shoot you, but I couldn't, so I shot _her_ and it _broke me Dexter'_ She hadn't noticed she was crying until Dexter tried to wipe the tears away with his thumb. She jerked away 'don't fucking touch me' Dexter lowered his hand, watching as Deb attempted to compose herself, but the cracks were easily visible, she hadn't exactly practised her 'I haven't just killed anyone, honest' face. And she'd had no need to. Until now.

'I'm sorry' he said, voice low. Deb let out one of her sarcastic laughs

'Fucking peachy' she said, she ran a hand through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. 'I should have made you leave' he carried on, knowing he needed more than a two word apology to appease Deb 'I shouldn't ever have put you in that position and I'm sorry that it got out of hand.'

'Out of hand?' Deb repeated, as if he were slow 'I _murdered _my boss in cold blood!' Dexter glanced towards the door, glad that Deb's insurance covered a private room.

'Deb -'

'No, Dex. 'I'm sorry' won't make this okay! Nothing can make this fucking okay!' she then clutched her head and lay back 'Jesus fucking balls'

'Deb, I. . .'

'Stop saying my fucking name Dexter. Just go away and leave me the fuck alone' Dexter took the hint and left the room. He figured he could get something from the canteen and wait for his sister to cool down before he asked her what happened with the whole unconsciousness thing. If he gave her some time, she'd come around. She always did. She was strong. If anyone could handle him, what he was, what he backed her into doing, it was Deb. She was his sister. And she was stirring feelings within him that he didn't even know were possible for him to feel. He'd wouldn't leave the hospital until she did. They might even end up having a proper conversation. Who knows? Either way, Dexter thought. He would not blame Deb for anything from here on in, it was all on him now. But that was okay. If it helped Deb, he could carry her Darkness too.

**So ... there you go**

**What do you think? Please let me know, I really appreciate honest feedback. I tried to capture both of the characters but I'm not sure I succeeded, especially Dexter. All feedback is welcome :)**

**And in a bit of shameless advertising, if you read/watch: Merlin, Vampire Academy, Glee, Alice, The Gone series (Perdido Beach), Jonjou Romantica, Primeval, Repo! The Genetic Opera, Sherlock or Harry Potter then feel free to check out my other stories ;)**

**Love Tibbins xx **


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